Amsterdam Journal; The Joy of the Red-Light District: A Police Guide

Rule No. 1, according to the new police guide for tourists to Amsterdam's red-light district, is: Have FUN, but act in a NORMAL manner.

Tolerant. Within limits. How very Dutch.

Rule No. 6: PROSTITUTION. No pictures of the women.

Rule No. 8: Soft drugs, NOT UNDER 18.

And No. 10: Parking is NOT FREE.

''This brochure is NORMAL,'' insisted Superintendent Klaas Wilting, chief police spokesman, who must have repeated the word ''normal'' 30 times in an hourlong conversation about the brief brochure. He denied that the police felt defensive about publishing it. But he was distinctly irked that the FOREIGN press had taken such an interest. Here we go again, he implied: the old stereotype of Amsterdam as SIN CITY.

Actually, the guide is fairly subdued. Most of it is the kind of common-sense advice dished out by the police everywhere: watch out for pickpockets, don't play balletje (Amsterdam's three-card monte), resist those drunken impulses to take off all your clothes and jump into the canals.

Although it contains a map, it is not the usual guide, per se. It doesn't say which ''coffee shops'' sell the best marijuana, which live-sex shows are liveliest or which bordellos have the prettiest women.

In fact, it is virtually impossible to find such information in print here. Most tourist guides to the Netherlands devote pages to the Vermeers in the Rijksmuseum, but scant sentences to the red-light district, even though it is unlikely the Vermeers get five million visitors a year.

So what's the most common inquiry at the Amsterdam Tourist Service on Damrak Street?

''Where is the red-light district?'' answered Djawehly Pelupessy, who works behind the counter. ''They blush, we tell them, then they walk away fast. They're shy. They don't want to admit they want to see the women in the windows.''

Toine Rodenburg, who manages the Banana Bar, the Erotic Museum, Theater Casa Rosso and other district landmarks, accuses the city of being ''ambivalent or even hypocritical'' toward the reality that sex lures far more visitors than culture.

''They take the taxes without saying thank you,'' he complained. ''They put up signs everywhere saying 'Rijksmuseum' or 'Anne Frank House,' but there's only one for the red-light district, like it's something horrible. As if Amsterdam was all about tulips and wooden shoes. It's not. It's about freedom.''

If it seems hard to tell whether the guide was written by a police officer or by a fed-up resident, it is because the answer to both questions is yes. The author, Officer Willem Schild, has patrolled this libertarian Arcadia for 12 years and, like Mr. Rodenburg, lives there. ''That's me on the cover,'' he said proudly, pointing to the grinning policeman on a motorbike beside an Erotic Museum sign.

The guide reflects neighborhood thinking, repeated by everyone from Officer Schild to Erik Blom, a law student who sells tickets to the Moulin Rouge show, to Theodoor van Boven, founder of the Condomerie condom boutique. If the district has a problem, they say, it is not the law-abiding women sitting in pink windows wearing only fetching smiles and eye-popping underwear. Nor is it the mellowed-out hashish dealers who sit giggling with their coffee shop customers, debating which of Bob Marley's tunes was his chef-d'oeuvre.

Rather, if there is a problem in this district of 300-year-old gabled buildings and expensive real estate housing doctors, lawyers and plenty of families, it is the street drug dealers who sell heroin -- or cough drops ground up to look like heroin -- and those tourists, American spring break kids or English stag party louts who jump into the canals, howl their drunken lungs out at 4 a.m. and punch each other silly.

Nobody really minds the middle-class tour groups that fill the sex shows in theaters that are cleaner and better lighted than many Off Broadway houses. Mr. Rodenburg seems to revel in the groups -- often featuring blue-rinse grandmothers and other unexpected spectators -- that flock to his Theater Casa Rosso. By prior arrangement with tour guides, he confided, the loudest-mouthed man in each group is the person selected by a leather-clad lady with whips to join her on stage -- to his embarrassment and the general hilarity of his fellow tourists.

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Superintendent Wilting's guide seems to be written in the same spirit of tolerance for human indulgence, while noting that despite popular notions about Amsterdam, the place does have rules.

''Cocaine, heroin, LSD, ecstasy, etc. are strictly forbidden,'' the guide notes. ''These drugs are always FAKE (washing powder, sugar, rat poison, vitamin C). On top of that, you may be forced to hand over your wallet.''

A small amount of marijuana for personal use can legally be consumed in a coffee shop, the leaflet says, adding, ''When you feel sick after smoking, or eating space cake, drink lots of water with sugar.''

There is also a discreet hint about prostitutes: ''If you visit one of the women, we would like to remind you they are not always women.''

But, here too, the guide demands decorum: ''Don't shout or use bad language toward these women. SHOW SOME RESPECT.''

That section was the most heavily edited by the department, Officer Schild said. He had advised tourists that the women charge $25 to $50 for 20 minutes, paid in advance. ''So make a clear deal at the door and don't be too drunk to get things done,'' he had written. ''Time is money for the ladies.''

The department felt that was a bit TOO helpful, he said, although his precinct house's biggest headaches are frustrated drunks who get angry.

All the women have alarm buttons, and the police then have to run or bicycle over to sort out the fight.

He also had a warning about ''smart shops,'' which sell herbs that supposedly boost intelligence or virility, along with hallucinatory psilocybin mushrooms, which can mix badly with alcohol. ''People think they're eagles and try to fly out of their hotel rooms,'' Officer Schild said. But the department is trying to ban smart shops, which also sell drug paraphernalia, so it did not want them included.

Officer Schild said he got to put in 95 percent of what he had hoped for, and takes the pamphlet around himself to bars and restaurants.

''In the Netherlands,'' Superintendent Wilting noted, ''we talk about the problems. We don't put them away.''

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A version of this article appears in print on July 21, 2000, on Page A00004 of the National edition with the headline: Amsterdam Journal; The Joy of the Red-Light District: A Police Guide. Order Reprints|Today's Paper|Subscribe